A Community Comes Together During Pandemic

Sean Sullivan
The scene inside Landry‘s.
Issue Date: 
May, 2020
Article Body: 

It’s been a jarring and alien sort of existence, this sudden spring of sequestration.

Residents have been furloughed from jobs, schools shut down and social life upended, all in a short span of weeks. The new reality has seen a renaissance of outdoor recreation, as some combination of cabin fever and unstructured hours has conspired to coax people out into the open air.

Sidewalks and woodland trails are more well-worn than they’ve been in generations, perhaps since that bygone era when cars weren’t yet so ubiquitous. These walkers and runners of pavement and path are after the fresh air and freedom the outdoors offers from the confines of walls and worrying news headlines.

Yet they also seem seeking some proof of life, evidence that they’re not alone, reassurances that the world still revolves and resembles the one they know.

At a safe distance we pass one another, some testing out our sea legs, signaling from afar like ships upon uncertain waters, comforted at sighting another vessel, but wary of staying beyond reach of its wake. Yet spring is in the air and in the trees - white, red, pink and green flowers and buds beginning to bloom from branches.

My wooded Wellesley College running route having been closed for weeks, I traded trails for pavement and a now-regular running loop that brings me within sight of Natick’s nearly deserted downtown.
On Walnut Street during one run, a young group of residents were gathered under shade of a porch. They watched for no less than an hour the business of a moving van parked across the street, as though it were a sporting event, and they the spectators.
A pair of wild turkeys sauntered in my path during that same run, hurrying out of my way as I pushed up the hill. Local wildlife seems confounded and curious at the sudden lack of human presence, the dearth of drivers on roadways. On a phone app that connects Natick neighbors, posts of (large!) fox sightings are frequent.
Despite most business being temporarily shuttered however, people were still at work in shops, furtively keeping them afloat in various states of hibernation until the crisis, hopefully, subsides. Tilly and Salvy’s Bacon Street Farm switched to curbside pickup early in April, a system whereby orders are placed through email, with a subsequent phone-call confirmation and scheduled pickup date.
It’s a first-order priority—having enough food to last the coming weeks while trying also to limit social exposure. That’s a balancing act that Natick restaurants like Casey’s Diner, Comella’s, and Dates and Olives have also helped to facilitate, though via home delivery. Many supermarkets began offering scaled-up delivery as well, though shoppers soon learned to plan ahead, as a glut of orders pushed delivery dates further and further into the future.
Once that food was furnished, in no small measure from newly kindled home kitchens and an attendant affinity for baking, there followed then the task of burning all those calories. The shutdown has meant many more idle hours than normal, as binge watching movies and shows has been elevated to an art form. In this new reality of sequestration, many just aren’t moving as much as we used to. For some, cycling has been a solution.
Denver Greene, who manages Landry’s Bicycles in Natick, said the store has switched gears to cope with these unprecedented market headwinds. The store had shut its doors to in-person shopping, and has seen supply chains stymied due to the shutdown. Like so many retailers, the store has had to adapt to the new lower volume and variety of products it can offer.
Yet for all that, fewer cars on the road and more home-bound families have brought about a bit of a cycling boom. The sudden surplus of free time has spurred the exploration of many an attic and basement, and bicycles whose wheels have long lain dormant are being excavated in that rush of spring-cleaning projects. Pair that with parents seeking resourceful ways to occupy children, and the result is a robust rediscovery of bicycle riding.
“It’s kind of a little bit of a revival in terms of road biking,” said Greene, who’s been with the store for 10 years. “There are a lot of parents losing their minds with kids stuck at home.”
While sales are somewhat slow due to the shutdown, Landry’s is doing a ton of tune-ups. Bringing all those bikes out of semi-retirement requires rehabilitating them back into good working order. Visiting the store’s online portal, there’s a handy window that lets customers chat with a service member through text.
For service and sales, the store has adopted a curbside system of drop off and pickup. Among their added safety precautions, Landry’s staff is practicing social distancing, using gloves, sanitizer, and letting bikes sit idle for extended periods of time before handling them.
“We’re still able to employ a lot of people,” said Greene, including many high-school-aged staff members who’d suddenly found their early spring weekdays free. “We’ve had our hands full. We’re happy that we’re working together.”
Though the growing dominance of online retail monopolies like Amazon has hurt the brick and mortar marketplace, web-based sales have been somewhat of a savior during the Coronavirus shutdown, allowing Landry’s to maintain a fair amount of internet sales.
Five Crows, a community staple for creative goods, is also using technology to stay connected with customers, as a portal to help them browse and buy. Crows features mostly handmade items from local artists and artisans. A curious shopper can do video tours of the store to see if something catches the eye.
Like many other retailers, the store has put gift cards front and center in their online offerings. These allow supporters of businesses to pay now and shop later, providing a much-needed and appreciated stream of revenue to offset the sudden shutdown of in-store sales.
Ginger McEachern is a Crows co-owner, and said its staff visits the store in shifts to limit exposure, and also as a means of catharsis from cabin fever.
“Everybody likes to go in to get out of their own house,” she said.
Once there, staff communicates with each other and customers through text messages, video and phone calls, to showcase and sell. Close-up photos of items can be taken and sent via phone in real time, and the communication offers another means of connection with the world outside the walls of home.
As many people and businesses struggle to pay mortgages and rent during the shutdown, McEachern said the company that leases the Crow’s retail space has been more than understanding.
“They’ve been just great,” she said. “’Just pay what you can.’ We feel supported by people, which is really nice.” She added that all this newfound free time at home is likely to be fodder for artists to create more and inspired works.
Outside the walls and windows of homes and shops, among the growing ranks of pedestrians during the pandemic, are Jackie Sand and Gustav Freedman. The two might have been strolling Parisian cobblestones this spring, but had to settle for Natick streets instead. The couple’s 75th birthdays are a week apart in April and May, and they’d planned to celebrate them in France. Best laid plans and all.
As part of their walks, Sand and Freedman now visit friends via the new mode of merrymaking - roadside visits, waves, and conversations in raised voices from a distance. At the suggestion of one friend, Sand has started a journal, and she and her husband have made space in their living room for their yoga practice.
Regular members for years at Natick’s Longfellow Health Club, they adopted home workouts when the gym suspended its operations mid-March due to the outbreak. The two have subscribed to yoga classes via video, which complements their walking with some stretching and light resistance training.
“I think it’s so important to move and get out,” said Sand.
Like so many, they stay in touch with relatives and friends near and far via technology, video chat, Facebook and phone conversations.
“Everybody is doing extreme behavior to be safe,” said Sand. “This is just a whole other way of being than I’ve ever seen in my life. I just wonder if old habits will come back once this is over.”